


Impure Roxxanne (Original Character)

by Rowby



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Backstory, Creepypasta OC - Freeform, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 20:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14985284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowby/pseuds/Rowby
Summary: A backstory for my creepypasta oc, Impure Roxxane, or I.R. for short! If you steal this story or the ocs you're a coward that hates god and you're required to fight me in ritual combat





	Impure Roxxanne (Original Character)

**Author's Note:**

> If the tags weren't enough, this story contains mentions of rape and heavy violence, please tread lightly! Thanks for reading!

Roxxanne doesn't know how much she's had. It's been one bottle after another, and broken glass is littering the concrete. All around the fire, there's small noise: someone playing guitar, several mini conversations, crackling embers floating up to the hole-riddled ceiling of the warehouse.

“Hey, Roxxy,” someone slurs next to her. She drops her gaze to the clown sitting next to her, grinning with red staining his mouth. “Roxxy, Roxxy… Roxxy, how'd you end up like us?”

The conversations quiet and slow, and she feels Stitches’s grip on her jacket sleeve tighten. “Like you?” she asks, and Jack nods. She looks around, noting a few of the others have turned heads.

“Yeah! Some psycho with too much time on his hands! What's your story, ah? How did you fuck up?”

Stitches leans forward and shakes her head, but Roxxanne pats her hand. It might be the booze, but she's willing to spill the story to her newfound friends. “Okay, kiddos… gather ‘round, let me tell you all about how I nearly got killed, shall we?”

“Wait, really?” The other Jack--Eyeless-- ceases his guitar and sets it next to him.

“Really.” Roxxanne stands up, immediately regretting it when her head starts to spin. It feels like a waterside going too fast, her stomach lurches, threatening to send all the beer back up her throat. “Details will be foggy, but I still remember what happened.” She stoops down and grabs her scythe, scraping the blade against the floor to keep everyone's attention. “So take it from me, or nobody at all.” Despite feeling a bit sick, she starts telling the story.

 

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“Uh, Marcus?” Roxxanne looks behind her as she says his name. At her friends who are grinning with bright eyes.

Marcus turns from his spot sitting on the table, flashing a somewhat fake smile. “What's good, girl?” he asks.

“Um, hi.” Roxxanne looks back to him, her heart pumping. “Uh, I was wondering… do you have any plans for the weekend? Because, uh… oh, jeez.” She bit her lip. “Uh, I was thinking we could hang out?”

Marcus’s friends snicker. Roxxanne isn't one to spend time with the basketball team, usually studying for AP classes, so such a bold approach to the most sought after boy in school was hilarious.

Marcus, however, just smiled and tapped his foot. “Depends. What kinda hangout are we talking?”

“Uh, well… I mean…” Roxxanne took a stutter step backwards. “I was thinking a picnic. You know, going to the park or something.”  _ He's gonna say no, who proposes a picnic date anymore? _

“Sure.” He shifted to look and wink at his friends, then back to Roxxanne.

_ Wait, WHAT.  _

Marcus’s grin only grew wider. “Hey, your dad owns the Home Depot, right? He takes super good care of your lawn and all, right?”

“Yes!” Roxxanne could barely hold back her enthusiasm. “Uh, yeah, huge gardener.”

“I'll see you at your house then, Roxxy. Eight?”

“Sure,” she said without thinking. How could she think? She just got a date with her biggest crush, and the most crushed on boy at school! She basically ran back to her table, giggling and slapping her hands on the table and shaking her tray. “Omigod!” she squealed, then pulled up the collar of her shirt to hide her red face. “I just asked out Marcus Coolidge! And he said yes!”

Her head was in the clouds, her body light as air as she floated through the rest of school. 

 

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“It all started with a boy,” Jeff grunts, leaning back from the fire.

Roxxanne shrugged. “I guess you could put it that way, yeah. Anyway, me and my buddies were freaking out like any regular junior. They gave me all these weird dating tips, and-” she pauses, hiccuping. She taps the handle of her scythe on the ground, as a gesture to tell them to hold on. “Okay, sorry. Anyway, eight that time rolls around…”

 

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“Wow.” Marcus looks down at the neatly trimmed grass, illuminated by the last few spokes of sunlight twinkling through the nearby trees. “No kidding, Mr. Wilson doesn't fuck ‘round with the yard.”

“I mean, I help out too, but yeah, it's mostly Dad. Something about his reputation.” Roxxanne shifts the blanket and basket from one hand to the other, stopping at a point near her dad’s workshed. “Uh, is this a good spot?”

“Hell yeah.” Marcus grins and watches as Roxxanne sets everything up for the picnic. “Looking fine tonight, Roxx.”

“Uh, thanks.” Roxxanne feels her face heating up as she smooths the blanket out, then sets the basket of food down. “You, um. You look good too.” She picks a corner of the blanket and crosses her legs as she sits down, opening the basket and taking out a bag of two sandwiches. “Oh, which one do you-”

“Doesn't matter.” Marcus sat down and reached over, taking one of them. “So, how far are we trying to go here?”

“What?” Roxxanne’s heart is in her throat.

“How far you wanna take this date? I mean, just leave after we’re done eating?” Marcus lifts his hand in a  _ what the hell  _ gesture. “I mean, I've been wanting to-”

“Um… to be honest, I didn't know you were actually going to show up,” She interrupted. “I haven't really planned this out, I've never really been on a date before.”

“Didn't you date that dyke last year? Thought you were into girls.”

“I mean, it doesn't matter if you're a guy or a girl to me, as long as you're a good person.” Roxxanne swallows, averting his gaze and staring down at her sandwich.

 

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The clown Jack starts to burst out laughing, breaking the silence. His laughter is infectious, and pretty soon, Roxxanne is giggling too, along with other people around the campfire.

“Sorry,” he says, “But you said that you don't care as long as they're good people?”

“Yeah, I didn't see that Marcus was a piece of shit ‘till it was too late.” Now the booze is really starting to lower her inhibitions. “Hey, hand me another.” She leans toward the fire, looking at the crate of beer they've only made a dent in. A bottle goes flying her way, and she somehow catches it. She uses her blade to pop the cap off, then continued her story after a large gulp of the drink burns down her throat. “Anyway, get this: a whole fuckin’ thirty minutes passes. It's nighttime by now, birds is gone and sleeping. This whole goddamn time, I never picked up on his creepy bullshit.” She pauses, relearning the night and stumbling a little as she takes another drink of the beer. “Every damn thing he said was pointing to us fuckin’ and I had no damn clue. So, after that thirty minutes is up, he does this, he asks if I gots beer.”

“Red flag,” a voice calls through the fire. Roxxanne doesn't know who it is, but she nodded and pointed her scythe in the direction. 

“Damn right. The reddest flag I could have gotten, and I paid no damn attention. So of course, like any good kid, I takes him to m’ papa’s shed. It's got all his electrical equipment, gardening tools, beer… a real man cave. That sumbitch downs four cans before…” she pauses, letting her headache pulse. Stitches stands up and leans against her in a reassuring way. So she continues. “Before the night goes from shit to shittier.”

“Oh, no, what’d he do?” someone asked. It's the same person that mentioned the red flag.

“Well… it started when he said…”

 

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“Kiss me.”

Roxxanne sets her mostly full can on the table, stepping back from his staggering figure. “What?”

“Come on, Roxxy Foxy,” he cooes with a lopsided grin. “Kiss me!”

“You're drunk,” she says, stepping back as he came closer. “You, um… you need to call someone to take you home.” her lower back is now against her dad’s workstation. 

“Oh, you're gonna be a bitch now? You get all my hopes up and then just send me home?”

He's getting closer, taking his time to make sure he doesn't fall. Roxxanne's heart is racing again, but instead of a light, fluffy, puppy love feeling, it's dread. So much dread and fear. She feels her stomach rising and falling, demanding to rise up through her throat.

Then, she ducks down, running past him and pushing him away to try to get out of the shed. She's almost to the door when a large lock of her mane of hair is snatched, and she's jerked back. “Get off me!” she pleads. She feels warm, but it's the bad kind of warm. Her jacket is coming off, she's struggling and manages to fight him off, bt he throws her back into the back of the shed. As her back hits the counter the walls shake and tools start falling from the wall and onto the floor.

“I said, kiss me,” he hisses.

Roxxanne’s breathing is heavy as he comes closer, grabbing her by her belt loops and forcing her mouth open with his lips. Roxxanne grunts and shoves him back, wrestling his hands off her hips. “I told you, get the fuck off me!” she screams.

Again, Marcus isn't satisfied. “Who the hell told you that you could say no to me?” 

 

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“What an asshole,” Jack says. Roxxanne forgets the first word of his name, but it's one of the Jacks. She didn't know when she started sitting, Stitches’s head in her lap and empty bottle next to her.

“So, yeah. You can put the pieces together of what happened next, but he didn't get very far.” she swallows, and Stitches reaches up and pats her face. She seems to be a little drunk. “And, at some point, I just… I started seeing red, so I just… I just fuckin’ went ape shit.”

 

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“I told you,” she says in her most shakes voice as she painfully zips her pants back up, “Get the fuck off me. Get off my fuckin’ property.”

Marcus is on the floor, rubbing his red cheek. “You son of a bitch,” he says as he staggers to his feet, but then falls back down to his knees again.

In a fit of anger, Roxxanne kicks him, making him fall over completely. “I really wanna lock you in here for the night, but I'm not a piece of shit like you. So get the fuck up, and get outta here.” She steps over him to open the door.

Marcus just grunts. Something scrapes as he stands up, but Roxxanne doesn't hear it. She doesn't hear anything, her ears are crashing with waves and her head is swimming. She's going to ask her dad if she can skip school Monday. She's definitely pressing charges, getting him arrested.

She doesn't hear anything.

Not until a loud, familiar whirring buzz electrocutes the room.

She turns just in time to evade the buzzsaw coming for her shoulder.

 

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“Holy shit!” 

The group erupts into exclamations, someone tosses a bottle in the air and shatters it.

“Exactly my reaction!” Roxxanne calls over the commotion. “I wouldn't kiss the sumbitch and he goes to kill me!”

“Is that how you got your face cut?” One asks, tracing a similar smiling cut on his face.

“Oh, oh! This is the best part of it! Hand me another bottle.” Another one comes her way, but this time Stitches has to catch it for her. Popping the cap and taking the biggest drink, she continues. “Okay, so…”

 

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She's shrieking. It's ear-splitting, bloodcurdling. She feels her teeth breaking, splinters shredding through her head, which is pinned to the wall.

Then, as she's let go, she falls. Her hands immediately curl around a handle.  _ A handle means something is attached.  _ That's the only thought going through her mind as her screams turn into cries, which then turn into whimpers.

As Marcus stoops down and grabs her hair, he laughs, the alcohol strong on his breath. “Guess we’re even.”

Roxxanne is breathing ass steadily as she can, which isn't very. The pain is constant, like it's like velcro tearing at her woud, shredding away tissue bit by bit. She spits out a mouthful of broken tooth fragments and blood, gagging and almost throwing up.

The buzzsaw drops down next to her, turned off. Marcus drops her head and stands up. “Later, Roxx. See you Monday.”

Adrenaline was coursing through her veins as he swung her arm, throwing whatever she had in her hand at him and knocking him down before he got to the door.

It was a scythe. The handle slammed I to his shoulder, but there was no blood.

_ Make him bleed,  _ something in her said,  _ make him bleed dry, bathe in it.  _

She grabs the scythe again.

_ Make him bleed. _

She charges him.

 

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“I don't even remember actually killing him,” Roxxanne says. “I snapped out of it when it was right through his chest. I remember him screaming, though.”

 

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“You crazy bitch, get off me! What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

The voice in her head is shrieking  _ MAKE HIM BLEED MAKE HIM BLEED MAKE HIM BLEED.  _

She makes him bleed. He's gagging, coughing up the crimson, and she's coughing and screaming, standing up over him and driving the blade through his chest again and again  _ and again and again it's not enough do it again.  _

He's long dead when she falls over him, breathing heavily and holding the handle of the scythe like she was about to fall into Hell. She's gulping in stale, bloody air, feeling the red drip down her face and arms, she tastes it on her tongue. The door is slightly ajar now, due to Marcus trying to live with his life, even if just barely.

Now he's lying dead, and she's standing alive.

She jerks the scythe out of his chest and pushes the door open.

 

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“Then, I saw Dad pull into the driveway. I saw the headlights. I booked it for the woods and didn't look back once. Few weeks pass and I bump into Stitches, and here I am.” She drops the almost empty bottle, and it cracks but doesn't shatter. She feels a surge of anger as she picks it up, then throws it down hard and far away, letting the glass explode.

A thick silence hangs in the air, even the fire stops crackling it seems.

“Do you regret it?”

Roxxanne shrugs, joining the group again and sitting down with Stitches at her side. “I guess not. I mean, he fuckin’ raped me.” She pauses, feeling the rage surge through her like a snake writhing in her stomach. “Actually, yeah, I don’t regret a single second of that happening. Call me inhumane, impure, a monster, whatever the fuck you want. The basics is that it was either my blood staining that wood or his. And after what he did, I wasn’t gonna let his skin feel another sunrise. You wouldn’t want to if you was there either.”

Another thick silence.

Then, one of the Jacks laughed, slapping her back. “No judgement from us, kiddo. We did bad things too, don't worry ‘bout us. Nice knowing ya, Roxxy.”

Later on in the night, they started to leave. The Jack that started the backstory spiel was the last to leave.

As he walked out the door, he said “You know, Impure Roxxanne sounds like a pretty cool name.”


End file.
